


Fishing in Fishbowls

by dodds



Series: Common Happiness [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodds/pseuds/dodds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is friendship set to music. (John Campbell)</p><p>Tom and Chris share an apartment and have a regular friendship. That's until Chris orders Tom to 'get out!'. </p><p>Throw in two insane friends, ex-girlfriends, a sharky Irishman and his Scottish puppy, two brothers ruining it all through Skype, some people who trip over their own legs, and the spring wedding might be arriving in the winter. Oh, how some wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Words With(out) Thought

**Author's Note:**

> AU: unfamous. Rating will be understandable in further chapters. Characters/ships added along the way (main are Hiddlesworth).
> 
> Inspired by the Hiddlesworth gif series by blue-eyed-bird (http://blue-eyed-bird.tumblr.com/tagged/hiddlesworth-series)
> 
> [Romeo and Juliet belong to Shakespeare. Mr Humphries is a character of 'Are You Being Served?']

Bare feet padded slowly on the tile floor in the kitchen. The sunlight falling in through the large window that led to the garden made the floor just warm enough to walk on – normally both of them hated to walk on tiles. But all was fine without socks now and Tom wandered around looking for the sugar whilst hoping his toast wouldn’t get burned in the rather shitty toast maker they owned.

Two sugar cubes were quickly added to the tea and he snatched out the toast just in time. Buttering it, he could feel Chris’ eyes pierce in his back. If he wasn’t that grown up he would have thought Chris was trying to burn his soul out with his, Tom had to admit, rather dashy blue eyes.

The radio on his left blared out the latest hits at a very low volume so he turned it up a bit. Half dancing towards the table, he had too much fun watching the butter seep into his toast. He sat down as opposite of Chris as he could with the muscular in the sofa and he at the table. Chris was radiating that he was everything but awake or in a good mood. Tom sighed but understood, waking up was never easy. Especially not for Chris, who kept managing to walk around like a sleepy but angry rhino in the morning. 

“Morning,” Tom muttered and he grabbed the paper. The front page said something about the Parliament, so he just skipped the first part and immediately looked for the sports. With the European Championship so close there wasn’t really a sport he could care more about. Going through the pages, he saw Chris rubbing through his eyes all the time.

“I saw you looking at me,” Chris said after a while. Tom has long finished the paper and his toast and was taking his pleasure in sipping from the still hot tea. The cup was placed down quickly as Chris spoke and Tom looked down in worry. Confusing entered his head even though he knew perfectly what Chris was talking about, he wasn’t one of those people who could hide their feelings properly.

He looked up at Chris, a weary smile trying to lighten the mood. Chris leaned back again, one hand behind his back, another one rubbing the sleep out of his eye. The mood didn’t get any better on it. Tom gave a small shake of the head in the hope to shake the subject off. Yet, he also tried to think hopefully despite the fact that Chris was not implying a good thing.

“Don’t give me that look,” Chris muttered, his voice barely audible through the hand but the words hit Tom right in his heart. He waited for other words, eyes showing pure panic.

“Get out.” The words smacked him in the face. One of his eyebrows went up and his eyes widened. If he wasn’t confused before he was surely confused now. The panic flared through his veins. His heart lay shattered in his chest, no more life getting pumped through. 

“What?” he managed to choke out. He scanned Chris’ face in the hope he didn’t mean it after all. All his dreams lied on the ground, mixed like a jigsaw puzzle and there was no hope that he would connect all the pieces together again. Had he taken it all wrong? The hugs. The stares, the intimate touches. The kisses on the cheek when no one was around. The way Chris would smile at him when seeing him. Everything that had ever been done had just sunken deeper than the Titanic.

“So you don’t want me?” He was on the verge of tears now. His face showed every piece of emotion there was to show. Chris ran a finger over his mouth, even bit it slowly and didn’t speak. He avoided every bit of eye contact with Tom, who started to understand the hint.

Tom sucked in a large breath and swallowed hard. He looked down for a second, before he pushed his chair backwards. That grabbed Chris’ attention, who glazed up at Tom for a moment. Their eyes met as they crossed. Chris opened his mouth to say something but Tom was the first to speak.

“I’m fine, I’ll just come back to get my stuff later on the day. If you at least would be kind enough to grab it for me.” He had to get air, he couldn’t stay in the same house as Chris anymore. Or just the same room. And even though Chris had just bluntly rejected him, he still trusted the man with his tuff. Their friendship was at a large risk, but Tom would try to do everything, in spite of his love, to save it. But not at that moment because he was too angry and too disappointed in the other.

“Of course.” Chris’ voice cracked at the end and it made Tom look over his shoulder when leaving the room. It was just your imagination, he kept telling himself. Chris was absolutely not in love with him. And he wasn’t going to waste time doubting them considering he still had to find a place to stay for the night.

The wind was cold and awakening in face, slapping reality into it with every step he took. Every step that said ‘get out’. It didn’t faint away with the more steps he took, it just because louder and louder. Louder than the traffic. Louder than the people chattering away. The noise drummed in his ear, driving away all the peace. All the silence.

His hand wrapped itself around the phone in his pocket and he got it out, the message sending itself without any brainwork. _Are you home?_

He didn’t realize to who he had send the message to until the reply arrived. _Yes, what’s the problem?_ Benedict had replied in less than two minutes, the time it took Tom to get to the nearest shop and buy a can of beer. He gulped in down in one go and tossed in handily in the trashcan behind the counter.

_I’m coming over_. He stopped the first taxi that arrived and mentioned Benedict’s address. The drive was silent and Tom was grateful that he didn’t know the driver so he let the tears that wanted to fall, fall. The feelings poured out of him. 

***

“Tom, what’s up?” Benedict pulled him in one of his familiar, overly breathtaking – in the bad sense of the word – squishy hugs only he could pull off without pissing someone off. 

“Chris.” The word was enough to make Benedict pull Tom in by his hand and forcing him to sit down at the kitchen table. Jonny, with whom Benedict still shared a house for some strange reason, passed them in his way to the bathroom. A short gesture by Benedict made clear to him that he had to stay out of the kitchen for a while.

“What happened?” Benedict asked whilst putting the kettle on and rummaging through cupboards to find two decent, clean cups. How they managed to keep the house sort of clean was still a mystery to Tom.

Tom stared at his hands for a while. “Long story short? He noticed me. And told me to get out.” He let his head fall into his hands, pulling the first blond curls he can reach. “I wasn’t good in hiding the panic.” His voice got muted slightly by the head-burying. 

Benedict poured out three cups of tea – for if Jonny were to return because he never listened – and sat down before Tom with two of them. Tom looked up, grabbing the cup with both his hands but he didn’t drink of it.

“Did he mean it?” Benedict wanted to stop asking question but he needed to know every aspect of the story before he could give some advice. “What you’re going to do?”

“I think  he did. He saw he noticed me looking and didn’t like it. I mean, all the affection he showed!” Tom nearly broke the cup by the amount of squeezing he used on it. “I don’t know what to do. I told him I’d pick up my stuff later today but I don’t want to go back there. Not now anyway. Plus, I don’t have anywhere to go. My mum lives miles away and I don’t own a car or have enough money to pay a taxi that far. I can’t go anywhere – you have enough trouble feeding that idiot singing the shower.”

A loud “I hear you!” interrupted Tom’s monologue and Benedict nearly killed himself by choking in his tea. By the time Benedict managed to save himself from a painful death, Tom had finished his cup of tea in one quick go, despite the fact that he practically burned his throat out.

“You are not going back to that apartment today,” Benedict said in a rather decisive voice. “You can stay over for the night, I think Jonny’s leaving for the evening. Or so I hope, I want to have a calm night for once. Anyway. You can still pick up your stuff tomorrow and then there’s more time to look for something else.”

“Can I remind you of the fact that you are already awake for three hours, I for about one, Jonny for maybe five minutes and that it’s barely eleven in the morning?  Chris will starve to death if I’m not there! He barely knows how to order Chinese, Ben.” He received a smack in the face by Benedict and even though it was meant playfully it hurt quite a bit.

“Well, he won’t die if he doesn’t eat for a day, will he now? You must make a point!” Benedict slammed his fist on the table so hard the tea got spilled. “I know you love him, Tom, more than anything, but obliging to his wishes won’t help you here. You go shopping with Jonny for food – our fridge is more empty than yours when Chris forgets to go shopping – and I’ll call Elsa, maybe she knows something more. Deal?”

“No deal, I don’t wanna go shopping with Mr. Curly here.” Jonny wandered into the kitchen, only dressed in a fluffly white towel around his waist, and sat down with his own – now cold – cup of tea. “He doesn’t know where the stuff is and I don’t know where the stuff is. Why do you think I drag you along to the shop?”

“Tom’s smart enough to find his way in that thing. You two, to the shops! And get dressed first please, Jonathan.” Jonny stood up and walked out of the room with a walk that strongly reminded Benedict of Mr Humphries.

“Don’t be so hard on him, he doesn’t deserve him. How come you’re the mature one anyway? He’s older than you!” Tom raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, that’s the mystery. You can’t know, you’re too young.” Benedict reached over and petted Tom on the head, which the latter didn’t really like. Luckily for Benedict, Jonny walked in again – still not dressed, just angry. 

“Where did you put my jeans?” He pointed a threatening finger at Benedict, who was failing miserably at looking innocent.

“I don’t know, where did you throw them? If it was near the laundry, they’re currently being washed. If it wasn’t near the laundry, they’re probably still being washed. Just grab another pair.” Benedict sighed and walked past Jonny to get his phone, which was lying on the kitchen counter.

“It’ll be hell, won’t it? Shopping with him I mean,” Tom remarked. Benedict nodded once.

“Pure hell. Good luck.” 

***

About one hour and a half, a couple of biscuits, two cups of tea with something strong in it and about one hundred pounds less later, Tom and Jonny finally found back the front door of Benedict and Jonny’s house. 

Benedict opened the door just as Jonny was about to push it open with his shoulder – too much bags in his hands – and the older fell on Benedict, who was only able to save Jonny, not the groceries. The bags crashed onto the floor.

“Romeo, O Romeo, why did thee catch me, not the bags?” Jonny mocked, getting up and grabbing whatever was still a whole. Tom had a slight problem of not being able to stay upright and put down his own bags to prevent further damage to the dinner.

“Well, Juliet, I don’t know. Clean it up and take Tom’s bags with you, I need to talk to him.” Ignoring Jonny’s scowl, Benedict gestured Tom to follow him and the two of them eventually walked into Benedict’s room. 

“And?” Tom immediately regretted asking the question and was considering taking it back. He didn’t really want to know what Benedict found out in his hour and half of phoning friends of Chris. 

“Elsa told me that Chris is confused because he had given up hope long ago.” Benedict leaned against his desk and  threw a concerned look at Tom, who had in his confusion sat down on the bed.

“He… what? He gave up hope? So he is? Was?” Questions rose within Tom, who was getting more and more confused with the minute. Did that mean Chris was merely panicking? Just worried about something? He rubbed his hands on his head for a second, trying to process the sudden information.

“Tom, yes. On all. You never did anything so he thought he was taking the signals the wrong way, that’s why he didn’t say anything. That’s why he ordered you to get out, because he thinks you playing a prank.” Benedict looked at the ceiling, unsure of how to continue. “You’re going back tomorrow, I don’t know what you’re planning to say to him but please, don’t put up a fight.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I’m just, how? He never. Why did he send me away then? I don’t get it, Ben!” He dramatically let himself fall back onto the sheets. “Why is my life so fucking complicated?” 

“I don’t know, mate.” Benedict stood up when there was a knock on the door. “What’s it, _Jonathan_?” 

“Stuff’s in the kitchen, though I’ve no idea how I’m going to get some of the stuff out of the carpet. I mean, you squished the strawberries,” Jonny said through the door. Tom giggled, more out of stress than because he found it funny, but it brought some relief to him. To his pained brain.

Benedict sighed loudly. “Typical.” He turned towards Tom. “C’mon, stop thinking about the problems, do that tomorrow. Tonight, it’s just us two with a lot of wine and bad movies.” He helped Tom up and knocked over Jonny with the door as he opened the door.

“Well, just leave me here to die! On the carpet. It’s not like it matters.”

***

Tom turned around in Jonny’s bed. It had been quite an argument to decide who would sleep where, but eventually Benedict had agreed on Jonny sleeping with him so Tom could have Jonny’s room to himself. 

Being in a stranger’s bed, Tom found it hard to fall asleep and he ended up switching the light on. He walked around the room, picking up stuff sometimes to find out what it exactly was. After a while, however, he realized it was better to leave alone.

Back under the covers, he still didn’t feel sleepy. Thoughts were rushing through his head. How was he supposed to bring up the Conversation – with immense, bold capital C – without making it obvious that he had talked to others about the matter. That he knew of Chris’ confusion.

There was a little knock on the door. Tom pretended to be asleep, but it didn’t seem to fool Jonny, who spoke up after another ignored knock.

“I know you’re awake, Thomas, I heard you putting down one of my slippers. Benedict doesn’t want me to tell you this, because he thinks with a slight lie all is solved, but just be honest to Christopher. Tell him everything you know. Even the fact that Benedict phoned Elsa,” Jonny rattled. Tom nearly stood up to open the door, but footsteps indicated that Jonny continued his course to wherever.

Tom fell back into the pillows, sighing. _Shit,_ he thought, _fuckload of shit with a sparkle of fucked up misery._  


	2. Before Thou Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jonny is unable to leave the house; Benedict drops a banana; one sharky, hungover friend is called to help; and Tom does a great impression of Francis the goldfish.   
> Also features: Bad Old English and Eggs (with bacon).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my Old English sucks, Tom's probably just fine. And yes, loads of mentions about stuff they're actually in (whether or not they are or not are the character I mention).

The next morning arrived in a flash and Tom thought he’d gotten a minute of sleep instead of a couple of hours. His watch told him, quite happily, that it was a quite unnatural hour to be awake. He rolled over and fell out of bed in a very ungracious manner by landing face-first on top of a slipper which by further examination just seemed to be a sock with another sock stuffed in it.

“Ugh,” was the only thing Tom got out of his mouth and he pushed himself up. Hoping he hadn’t woken anyone with his elegant fall, he grabbed his clothes and went into the dark corridor. He was sort of familiar with the corridors, doors and obstacles in the house when there was light, in the dark however it was a slightly bigger problem.

He managed to knock over a vase with fake flowers and walked into the same cupboard twice. Cursing along the way he damned himself for the noise. Taking some precaution, he took a swift look inside the room of Benedict but no one seemed awake yet. Well, that’s what Tom thought since he didn’t think an awake Benedict would allow Jonny to spoon him.

Still holding his laughter as he entered the bathroom, though he had to admit the scene had been rather adorable, he let the tabs run. It was at least two hours before Chris would even think of getting out of bed, so taking a bath would maybe relief his tension a bit.

The time drifted by in long minutes and short seconds. His hair stuck closely to his skull and by the time he stopped soaking himself like a towel every bit of curl had left. He got out of the bath, wrapped a towel closely around his waist and with another on his head – the comparison to a nun was easily made – he let the water flow away.

The bathroom was warm enough to stay naked for a longer time so he took the time to utilize Benedict’s and Jonny’s stuff to shave, brush his teeth and fix up his hair.

Just as he was trying to tighten his belt, there was a knock on the door. Startled for about five seconds, it took another knock before he opened the door a couple of inches. A sleepy-eyed Jonny with an obvious bad hair day stood in front of him, pajama shirt half open.

“Still need the bathroom, Mr Curly?” Jonny leaned heavily against the wall, threatening to fall asleep again. Tom grabbed his shirt, tossed the towels aside and opened the door completely.

“No, you can have it. And don’t call me Mr Curly, thank you.” He pulled the t-shirt over his head and met a wide grin as his head reached freedom again.

“How can I not call you Mr Curly? Even your chest hair curls.” The door slammed shut as Tom started blushing. He couldn’t even find a counterargument to shout through the door as Jonny hadn’t told a single lie, so he just wandered downstairs, slightly surprised to find a fully dressed Benedict dancing on some cheesy love song that blared through the radio next to him.

“ _Wah!”_ Benedict dropped the banana he was holding as he spotted Tom in the middle of his turn. “Tom, please, you scared me.” He picked up the banana and ordered Tom with a quick gesture to sit down. “Coffee?”

“Coffee. Nice music.” He lied his head dramatically on the counter. “What am I going to do, Ben? What will I say? I can’t start a relationship with him with us both believing one doesn’t love the other. Well, I think he loves me, but I just… what if he doesn’t believe it? What if he just sends me away again. I mean, I can be playing with his emotions for all he knows!”

Benedict pulled a chair closer and sat down opposite of Tom, his hands grabbing the curly’s ones. “Thomas, for one thing, you can’t lie. I’ve seen you try it and you always start blushing until you look like a tomato.” A smile flashed on Tom’s face. “And Chris’ll understand. If he really loves you like Elsa says he does, he’ll be careful but just show trust. Tell everything that’s wrong. And, if things were to go south, I know you have Fassy on your speed dial, call him, his Scottish puppy isn’t in England.”

“How do you know who I have on speed dial?”

“We’ve been friends long enough, Tom.” Benedict shakes his head and lets go of the hands to drink from his coffee. “Shall I give you a lift, to the nearest underground I mean. I’ve to pass it on my way to work. You can borrow Jonny’s Oyster Card, he’s probably not leaving the house today.”

“Sure. Now or?” Tom ignored the coffee in front of him and yawned loudly. Benedict gave the answer by putting his cup down and standing up.

 

***

 

The ride with the metro was over too quickly for Tom, who had been rehearsing his speech whilst being swung towards every corner of the wagon. He nearly missed his stop due to a fat, man with a enormous moustache that blocked Tom’s sight on the station name.

Cursing he tried to find the way out, jogging up the stairs with two at the time. His phone ticked uncomfortable against his ear as he tried to reach Michael. “Ugh, pick up, pick up.” He started running to make the crossing before the light went red again.

“I just picked up, it’s early, wassup?” Michael’s voice was filled with sleep and Tom started to feel guilty about calling him. “Are you still going to tell me? Or shall I hang up, fall asleep and call back in at least four hours later?” Tom just imagined that that snarky comment was followed by a grin that would even scare off a shark.

“No, sorry, it’s just… Could you get up for me? And be on stand-by? I’m about to talk to Chris about something and I need someone to make sure I’ll be busy all day if things go wrong.” He bit on his nails, quite nervous for the answer.

“Look, Tom, I love you, but my boyfriend left to Scotland for a week and I’m so hung over I can’t tell whether my curtains are on the cat or my cat is in the curtains.” The hope sunk into Tom’s shoes and he sighed loudly over the phone. “So yeh, where’s the place to be!”

“Seriously? I mean, I can call someone else. I heard Ewan’s in town,” Tom started babbling in the hope Michael wouldn’t arrive sleep drunk if things did go wrong.

“Nah, Ewan left with Jimmy, didn’t you hear? And Jonny won’t leave the house, Bene’s at work and Elsa is busy with the baby. You’re depending on me, mate.” A smug chuckle followed the last sentence. Tom, who had reached the street of his apartment, sighted loudly.

“Fine, fine, fine, _fine!_ ” He started jogging again, wanting to talk to Chris before the latter decided to show up on work for once.

“Wow, with that emphasis you must really mean it.” There was a grunt that depicted Michael getting up. “Stretch the conversation half an hour, I’ll get ready by then, _if you still need me,_ that is.” There was a kiss-like sound before Michael hung up.

Tom tucked his mobile together with his hands in his pockets, pushing the door of the building open with his shoulder, it was never shut anyway.

As he entered the flat he noticed his holiday bag sitting on the sofa with a pretty awake, confused and unsure Chris next to it. Chris bit the laces of his sweater, hood shielding his eyes. The moment the door closed, Chris shook off the hood, staring up at Tom, who stood awkwardly in front of the sofa – all prepared speech leaving him.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Chris interrupted Tom’s starting word. The lace fell out of his mouth. “And… I don’t want you to leave.”

Tom was frozen on the spot, mouth opening and closing but he was not succeeding in forming coherent words. The only thing he was succeeding in was doing a decent impression of Francis, the fish swimming in the bowl behind Chris. Eventually he managed to frown, wrinkles appearing in his youthful face. “What are you saying?”

Chris’ face was slightly unmoving, merely getting tilled slightly. He didn’t even look at Tom but stared at the painting on the wall behind the latter. “I’m saying I-” Chris cut himself off, unsure of how to continue. Well, that’s how Tom judged it as he fiddled with his jacket.

“I want you to stay.” Tom’s look shifted from Chris’ face to the ground. There was something betrayed boiling beneath the surface, something that makes him feel like Chris was playing with him. Just tossing him around like some toy. He wasn’t angry, far from it, but he just felt confused. Even more unsure than before.

“And,” Chris avoided Tom’s look as the curly looked up again, “I think this could work. If we try hard enough.” He stretched a hand towards Tom, who hesitantly took it but didn’t make any further implications of moving closer towards the man.

“I think we better talk first, Chris because you are totally confusing me.” Tom sat down beside Chris, tossing the bag across in the room in the process. “Why the sudden change? Are you playing with my feelings? What’s happening?” He went on the lying-road, trying to get Chris to confess without having to mention Benedict.

“I’m not playing with your feelings, I promise. I am confused myself, I never thought _you_ would love me. Well, you never responded to everything I did, so gave up. Then you started to do the things I’d done for so long and I just, I can’t handle it, Tom.” He let go of Tom’s hands and rubbed over his face.

“Chris, shush, I want to say something myself. You confuse me more than Francis who managed to knock over his food with his bowl. First you order me to get out whilst I thought all the hugs, all the pecks were meant for me. Then I come here, now, and you tell me you still love me?”

“Still?”

“Shush! You told me to get out, I left and went to Ben who found out you were apparently really in love with me by calling Elsa. Don’t ask questions here, Jonny advised me to tell the truth. I’ve no idea what you mean by all this, Chris, you confuse me.”

Two soft lips met his as an answer but Tom didn’t do anything back, causing Chris to retreat confused. “What? Isn’t this? What’s wrong, Tom?”

Tom pressed his lips on Chris’, tongue running across the closed lips. As Chris eyes closed, Tom dared to close his own and give in more fully. One of Chris’ hands ran through Tom’s curls, stopping at the nap of his neck.

There was a bang. Followed by a very unmanly shriek. Followed by Francis swimming into the glass bowl. Followed by Tom tumbling off the sofa. “Michael! What are you doing here?!”

“You told me to be on stand-by! And I walked up – the door’s not closed by the way – and there was no sound. I thought he had _murdered_ you!” Michael adjusted his gestures to the things he was saying and eventually knocked a framed picture of a cupboard.

“What?” Chris helped Tom sort of up, actually just dragged him sideway on top of him like a teddy bear that had fallen out of a child’s bed. “Tom, what?”

Tom, who had burst into an enormous fit of giggles couldn’t control himself for a while and gestured Michael to do the explaining whilst he tried to catch his breath again.

“He called me, told me he needed a favour because you were going to murder him because… it’s complicated! Why aren’t you two just in a relationship? Adopt a baby, buy a decent house, be fashionably too late because the baby’s a child!” Michael went on and on about the troubles that two non-dating friends but still in love with each other brought to a group of friends. He eventually didn’t even notice Tom seating himself and allowing Chris to wrap his arms around him.

“Fassy, stop it. I’m not dead, nor is Chris intending to murder me. We are also not adopting a baby this early in a sort-of relationship. If it is already ready to be called a relationship,” Tom interfered.

“But you should, and… wait, what?” Michael stopped himself quickly, as if his brain had trouble processing the words coming out of Tom’s mouth. “Are you two? Together? Seriously? Seriously!” He nearly made a jump of joy but contained himself by jumping on top of the two men in an attempt to hug them.

“Michael, please, you’re making it very hard to breathe,” Chris muttered, trying to push the man away. Michael eventually let go of them, tears in his eyes.

“But this is great news! I have to leave now… don’t want to interrupt any shenanigans.” He winked and nearly skipped out of the door.

Tom  rubbed his hands over his face, sighing loudly. “This is not going to be a secret for very long, is it?”

“We better be prepared for the phone calls,” Chris answered and he squished Tom slightly. “There’s no way Michael’s going to keep this a secret. Couldn’t you have picked more trustworthy friends?”

“Oi!” Tom wrung one of his arms free and smacked Chris with it. “My friends are just fine. They’re just slightly insane, but fine! Insane but fine, no matter how much of a contradiction that might seem to you.”

“It’s a very large contradiction to me, but fine, you’re friends are fine.” Chris pushed Tom off him so the latter just fell on the carpet again and stood up. “Breakfast?”

“Eggs please, no bacon, I’m on a diet.” After those words, Chris stopped mid-walk and turned around on one foot, not believing what had come out of Tom’s mouth.

“Did you just say you’re on a diet?” he asked disbelieving. His brow furrowed as he tilted his head to the left, looking like a curious puppy.

“Yes, I have to lose weight. I’m going to audition for a role. Going to try my hand at acting again, you never know.” He shrugged and lifted his shirt. Chris nearly fell over when he realized he was able to count all of Tom’s ribs.

“You are eating and eggs and bacon, no matter your diet. I don’t want an anorexic boyfriend for a year because he has to play some skinny weirdo in a play.”

“It isn’t a skinny _weirdo_ , it’s Richard the second. They’re doing the play by Shakespeare again. Matt’s trying his hand for Richard in the screen adaptation but they’d rather cast him as the Eleventh Doctor in Doctor Who then as Richard in a Shakespearean play.” Tom lowered his shirt again as he walked up to Chris. Wrapping his arms around the man, he planted a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be fine.”

“I suppose they’re going to have a slightly more normal looking Richard the second, it’s still going to be with bacon.” He let go of Tom with another kiss. Tom sat down on one of the kitchen counters, his legs swinging like a six year old’s.

"I hate you,” he mutters, “thou art boycotting my attempts to be known for the thing I is good at. And yes, my old English sucks.”

“It’s pretty okay if you’re talking to someone who avoids Shakespeare like the plague.” Chris shot Tom a one-sided smile before returning his attention to the eggs. “Go change, I know you hate wearing the same outfit for two days straight, the laundry proves that.”

Tom let one of his typical laughs escape. “Sure, _darling_. When I’m back there better be eggs on the table without bacon.”

“With bacon!” Chris started humming one of his favourite songs as Tom walked towards his bedroom with more noise than a bunch of elephants going down some stairs.

Despite it was only changing clothes, it still took Tom seven minutes before he returned to kitchen part of their apartment. Waiting for him was Chris, sitting at the table with a plate filled with eggs and bacon in front of him and one with eggs without bacon opposite of him.

“No bacon?” Tom mocked, but he appreciated the fact that Chris had made them without the bacon a lot. “Thanks.”

“No problem, are you going to eat or do I have to feed it to you?” Chris joked and poked Tom’s egg with a fork.

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments always appreciated :D


End file.
